12
New York City
"Fess up. What's going on? You're constantly distracted," Paige demands from her spot on my dressing room couch where she's opening our Thai takeout.
"You can tell?" I ask.
"Even I can tell," Max, my onstage brother boasts. You've been breaking your iron cast routine, dude. Is the world coming to an end? What's up?"
"Everything is off the charts fine, and not fine at all." I pace my dressing room.
Max and Paige share a confused glance. "You want to tell us what's going on? Because you're acting odd, even for you." She leans back crossing her arms, waiting for an answer while Max digs into his noodles.
"Remember when I went to L.A. last week for Celebrity Dance Off?"
"Of course. What happened?" Max looks up.
"It's more of a who happened." Paige smiles like a cat flicking its tail with satisfaction. "Go on."
I grip the back of a chair, so many emotions roll through me. "It's... just... there was this girl."
"It's always about a woman." Max waves his fork in the air as he speaks.
"It's because of her that I was in L.A. Chelsea picked a song I did years ago and wanted it for a special dance."
"So, she's a fangirl," Paige says in a condescending, sing song way.
"You mean stalker?" Max adds.
"No!" I snap at both of them. "She's this unpretentious force of nature who is the only non-celeb on the show. I've been watching her all season, so it was wild when I got the call to come to L.A."
"You've been watching a dance show?" Max asks through a mouthful of noodles.
"Paige got me started. I thought everyone in the cast watched."
"Hello. Monday Night Football! Which you should be watching, but no, you British sots only watch soccer."
"Ignore him. What happened?" Paige interrupts.
"I fly to L.A. and in rehearsal this girl starts telling me I'm singing the song wrong."
Paige snorts on her Pad Thai.
"I know, right?" I laugh at the memory. "Chelsea's lecturing me with vocal instruction when she clearly hasn't sung anything since her grade school holiday pageant."
I picture her in her coral tank and little black dance shorts, wringing her hands, and her brow furrowed with worry that I won't get the song right. "Except that she was spot on. And then the night of the performance, they play this video package, you saw it Paige, where she shares these dark moments from when she was a kid and lost her mom, then was abandoned by her father."
"It was heartbreaking," Paige says.
I nod and continue. "This girl, with no real stage experience, gets out there and dances, revealing her soul to the world. At the end she was so emotional she could barely hold herself together." I don't mention that I'd wanted to jump from my piano bench and cradle her in my arms afterward.
Max shakes his head. "Bro, you have it bad."
I pace the small space in front of them.
"I went to the after party and spent some time with her. She's smart. Funny, and beautiful too."
Paige leans against the cushions and puts her feet on the coffee table. "And you're falling for her."
I roll my eyes and shove my hand through my hair. "I don't know. This whole thing is idiotic. I said goodbye, and went on my way. But then the next morning I'm at the airport, day dreaming about the best night I've had in a long time and get this call to return for their encore."
A smile curls at the corner of my mouth. "You should have seen the look on her face." Chelsea was so surprised and lit up like I was the most important person in the world.
"You're in love," Paige declares as if it's a foregone conclusion.
"God no! I barely know her." And yet my pulse is racing.
"But you want to be." Max grins.
My eyes dart around the room and I throw my hands up. "I'm obsessed with a girl I barely know and I can't shake it. What the hell is wrong with me?"
"Huh, the great Thomas Evan Oliver has lost his heart to a girl." Max grins.
"No you wanker, that's not it." I don't fall for women this way. I'm too busy and my schedule is about to get even crazier. I plop down in a chair.
Max laughs. "Are you sure she's all that? Maybe she's hiding her bat-shit crazy side, or psycho stalker tendencies. Have you forgotten Barbie?"
"Bite your tongue. I don’t ever want to hear her name again. Chelsea's nothing like her." I think of how she had me in stitches last night over a story about a spider in her shower.
"You realize finding the perfect girl is like finding a Unicorn," he says.
I look up. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"
"Finding a beautiful, smart, funny woman is the impossible trifecta. It's extremely rare. So rare, it's like finding a Unicorn."
"Max, you're ridiculous," Paige laughs.
He holds up a hand. "But be careful if you ever discover one."
"Why's that?" I ask, intrigued.
"Because they're skittish and startle easily. They bolt in the blink of an eye."
Paige brushes off his story. "Tom, I know what you need to do."
"And what's that?" I ask, because I'm at wits end and need my life back.
"You have to go see her."
"In L.A.?" I shake my head. "I could never."
She arches an eyebrow and smiles. "Couldn't you?"
Los Angeles
By the time I arrive at the sound stage, my palms are sweaty. I get out of the cab with my backpack and stare at the stage door. What the hell am I going to say?
After a minute, I pull out my phone and text her. "Have time for a break?" I hit send. How long before she looks at her phone? What if it's hours? And what if Dominic says they're too busy for Chelsea to see me on a show day? He's a strong bloke, but I think I could take him.
I start obsessing about a whole new set of obstacles when a familiar gruff voice says, "Well, look who's back."
"Hank! How are you?" We shake hands.
"Sneaking out for a smoke. What brings you to this neck of the woods?" I hesitate and then Hank says, "Not that I need to ask."
I sigh. "Am I that obvious?"
"Afraid so. But hell, life's short." His eyes twinkle. "So why are you standing out here like a kid with his face pressed to the candy store window?"
"I haven't figured out how to get in to see her."
"Hold tight and I'll handle it." He snubs out his cigarette.
I glance at the closed sound stage door. "I hate to interrupt her rehearsal."
Hank smacks me on the back and chuckles. "No you don't."
I grin. He's right. "Thanks, Hank."
With hands deep in my pockets, I hope my twenty-four-hour impulse trip isn't a colossal mistake. Time passes and I wonder what Hank's doing. Has it been thirty minutes or thirty seconds? And then the door swings opens and a gorgeous girl dressed in a filmy harem costume appears. I do a double take. "Chelsea?"
"Oh my God, Tom!"
Chelsea's smile melts away all doubts about spending an ungodly amount of money to visit. Her golden hair is twisted through a little round hat on top of her head with a long ponytail flowing down her back. A sheer scarf dangles from one ear to the other.
She rushes over and my arms automatically wrap around her slim waist with my hands skimming the bare skin of her lower back. She smells like a daydream.
"What are you doing here?" She says stepping back.
Shit, I never thought to come up with an excuse, but then I'm distracted by her adorable belly button, revealed by the hip hugging harem pants. "Oh, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd swing by."
"I can't believe this," she bubbles.
Her infectious smile is everything I remember and more. And yet, even after all our phone calls and despite the fact she just launched herself into my arms, she peeks up at me with a sweet shyness.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"And miss seeing that smile? Never. You look amazing in that costume." I admire the gold fringe caressing her bare midriff.
"Are you sure? I feel like a fool."
I take her hands and hold them out so I can get a better look at her low-cut bodice and sexy pants with a slit in the transparent fabric from hip to ankle. "You are going to steal the show in that. Own it."
"I'm trying, but it's kind of revealing." She covers her bare stomach with her arms, which creates more cleavage.
I grin and nod my appreciation. Chelsea blushes, which makes her even more endearing. "You look phenomenal." I don't want to make her uncomfortable so I change the subject. "Are you ready for tonight?"
"It's our trickiest number yet, but I think I'm getting it. How long are you here for?"
"I take the red eye back tonight."
A spark of disappointment flashes across her face. "The red eye? Wow. This must be an important visit."
If she only knew. "I had some business I had to take care of. I couldn't resist dropping by." I keep a straight face, acting like it's totally normal for me to fly to L.A. and back in a single day.
"I wish I didn't have to finish dress rehearsal. But after that I think I'm free until show time, if you can hang around."
She looks so damn spectacular and all I want is to steal her away. "I'd love to." Her eyes dance with excitement, which only bolsters my confidence that I was right to make this insane trip.
"Let me double check with Dominic, because I never know if he has something last minute, but now that you're here, there's no way he can say no."
"I'll take whatever time you've got." I want to kiss her, but she's got that enticing veil across her face.
"We're almost done with dress rehearsal. You can wait in my trailer if you want. Shoot! It's totally trashed, I never have visitors."
"I don't mind."
"And if you want to come to the show tonight, I can get you in." She pauses and then says more softly. "I've only had friends here one other time."
At that moment I'm reminded of the people who have let her down in life.
Her smile vanishes. "Oh God, that sounded so desperate. I just don't know anyone here. My friends are all back in Iowa. If you can't, it's fine."
She's flustered and her vulnerability warms my heart. I take her hand. "I'd love to come."
A faint blush covers her cheeks. The studio door opens, a frazzled crew member pops his head out, and his panic disappears when he spots Chelsea. "Chelsea, we need you!"
"Sorry. I'm coming." She turns to me. "I've gotta go, but I'm in trailer 46. It's in the last row. The door's unlocked. I'll be back as soon as I can."
She flies off in her little harem number, and I practically skip my way to her trailer.
I venture inside like a voyeur on a reconnaissance mission. There's a gym bag on the sofa along with a pile of clothes she must have been wearing before she slipped into her skimpy costume. The dressing table is littered with cosmetics, Tic Tacs, a hairbrush, and her phone. On the table is an open bag of Cheetos, two bananas, and a container of applesauce. But what catches my eye is a framed picture of Chelsea and me taken after the performance. She's glowing after scoring perfect tens. Her arm clutches my waist and mine hers. What a perfect moment.
There's a pile of magazines lying open. I realize they all feature pictures of the show, of her and Dominic. She's collecting the media. I read through a few articles. Some of the comments are harsh, which irritates me, but a couple report her as the dark horse coming from behind. Damn straight she is.
The door opens and Chelsea appears. I set down the magazines. "There's the harem girl."
Chelsea smiles and removes the veil, revealing her lovely face. "Sorry it took so long." She spots the magazines all open to her picture. She snatches them up, shoves them in a drawer, and leans against it.
"You don't have to hide those. They're great."
"I've been collecting them. It's dumb."
"No it's not. My mum collects all my press. She's always bugging me to save articles and photos. I have a drawer just like that at home." Then I remember Chelsea lost her mum, and I feel like a total shit. But she takes a breath and seems to relax a bit.
"Your shiner is gone." I gently touch her cheek.
"There’s still some faint yellowing, but my makeup wizard fixed it. Would you like something to drink?" She kneels next to the fridge and opens the door. "Let's see. I have a lot of bottled water, a couple of Red Bulls, a carton of chocolate milk, part of a six-pack of beer, and a bottle of champagne."
I join her peering in the fridge. "That's a random collection."
"Hank dropped by with the beer one night and left it here. The champagne is from after we got our perfect tens, and I used to love chocolate milk so nabbed some from the craft service table."
"What are you saving the champagne for?"
She shrugs and turns toward me, our faces only a few inches apart. "Someone to share it with. I could never drink the whole thing by myself."
"I'm a someone."
Her eyes flash. "Yes, you are."
I reach past her. "Let's crack this baby and celebrate your tens." I open the bottle to a loud pop. Chelsea pulls out two plastic tumblers and grins as I pour the bubbly. "Do you realize how out of character I feel next to you? I need to be wearing a sheik costume or something."
We raise our glasses. "Here's to the harem girl and another great night on Celebrity Dance Off." We click them in the air.
Chelsea takes her first sip and sighs, the simplest of things make her happy. All of the sudden she sneezes.
"Bless you," I say.
"Sorry. I'm not used to bubbles," she laughs.
"I noticed your picture." I gesture to the frame as we take a seat.
"Dominic gave that to me. He knew how much..." she hesitates. "Well, he knew I'd like it." She blushes behind her glass.
"And why don't I have a copy?"
"Do you want one?"
I set her half empty glass down with mine, tilt her face up, and kiss her glossy pink lips. "Yes, I want one." She tastes of cool champagne. I drag her into my arms and kiss her again. She's all silky skin and sequins.
When we come up for air, she's angled herself toward me, the slit in her pants revealing a long, slender leg. When she sees where my eyes have landed, she tugs the sheer fabric to cover herself.
"I'm sorry. I'm not allowed to change until after the show tonight. It takes a team of union professionals to get me dressed."
I grin wishing I were one of them. She tops off our champagne, clearly unsure what to say. So I decide to come clean. "I didn't have a meeting in L.A."
She startles and sets the bottle down. "Then why are you here?"
I cock my head at her and smile.
"Me?" she asks in disbelief.
I take her hand. "I can't get you out of my mind. Trust me, my life would be much easier if I could. I've had a helluva time concentrating on work."
Her mouth drops open. "Seriously? You could have someone far more interesting."
I'm taken aback. "You crazy girl. What are you talking about?"
"You're successful and famous. Everyone loves you. I'm nobody." She makes air quotes.
"I am not famous. I've done some TV and theater in England. I've been in a couple of Broadway shows. That's it."
"Excuse me. You've been the lead in a couple of Tony winning Broadway shows."
"And when the show closes, I'm unemployed again. And you are not a nobody."
She shrugs. "I'm still getting over the shock that you're here. I'll be in New York maybe even later this week."
"I couldn't wait. I don't know how else to explain it."
She looks at me sideways. "Are you sure no one's put you up to this?"
"Positive." I laugh and move closer, slipping my arms around her midsection, letting one hand settle on the curve of her bare back, the other I slide up to her neck. My lips cover hers and her breath quickens. My fingers play with the loose hairs at her nape. After a long glorious minute I reluctantly pull away. "Now do you believe me?"
Chelsea gazes up at me and whispers, "Yes."
I stand to put some distance between us. Her kisses are working way too well. I grab the champagne bottle. "More?"
"Definitely."
I top off our glasses and take a seat, leaving ample space between us for the moment. "How much time before you have to report back?"
"An hour, maybe longer. Can I see you after the show?" She places her hand on my arm. Her touch is like a caress.
"You can count on it."
She tells me about their dance and Dominic's perfectionism and I tell her about forgetting a verse of a song yesterday because I couldn't keep my head in the show. My hands find their way to her hair and eventually her lips. Her kisses make it impossible to think about anything else. We're lost in an epic make out session when there's a knock at the door.
"Ten minutes, Chelsea."
We force ourselves apart. Her lips are swollen and face flushed. "Thanks." She calls out, then stands and straightens her disheveled costume. A sweet blush colors her cheeks again.
I rise and join her. "I can't wait to see your dance." I glide my fingers along her shoulder, down her arm, and kiss her. The door pops opens.
"Chelsea?" Dominic appears.
We jump apart.
"Whoa! Sorry," Dominic says.
"Tom was in town on business and stopped by."
"Hey, man. Good to see you." He grins. "Now I understand why she’s been hiding in her trailer again."
I struggle to keep a straight face as Dominic looks from one of us to the other and then spots the nearly empty champagne bottle.
"Have you been drinking?" he asks her, hands on his hips.
"Only two glasses." She smiles then covers her mouth with her fingers as if she shouldn't have confessed.
He shakes his head.
"You're the one who told me to save it for someone special," she sputters.
"I wasn't going to let her have any more," I say.
"Have you eaten anything since lunch?" He frowns.
"I ran out of time. But on the bright side, I'm not nervous."
Dominic shakes his head. "Yeah, I bet you're not. Come on slugger, we've gotta get going. Tom, I'll catch you later?"
"You bet."
Dominic nods and leads Chelsea away. "Having fun?" He asks her, while I can still hear them.
Chelsea nods. "Tom likes me."
He laughs and puts his arm around her shoulder. "Yeah, I got that."
* * *
While Dominic and I wait to dance, I spy Tom and sneak a wave.
"Like what you see?" Dominic blurts from behind me.
I jump and spin around, trying to act nonchalant.
"Please focus, just for the next two minutes."
"What? I'm focused."
Dominic shakes his head. I know he's frustrated with me, but I'm fine. In fact, I'm great. I want to revel in the glow of having Tom here, but I realize Dominic's right. I take a breath. Our dance is playful and set to a catchy tune. But it's also tricky with a couple of lifts and stunts. I focus and take my place next to Dominic.
He smiles. "You've got this. Just relax and have fun."
The music starts and we take off in the light-hearted number where I, as the genie, am trying to fool my master. It's polar opposite of the angsty, emotional dance from last week.
As we cover the dance floor, I think of Tom. He's here, for me. I don't miss a beat. In fact, I think his presence fuels my performance. When we finish, a rousing round of applause greets us along with high praise from the judges, but I pay little attention as my eyes find Tom. He's on his feet clapping, and I beam back at him.
When the show is over, I meet him as the crowd files out.
"You were adorable." He hugs me and I'm no longer shy about trotting around in my skimpy costume.
Later, after the interviews are over, we're tucked into a booth at a quaint Mexican restaurant, this week's post show after-glow locale. "How much time before you have to go?"
"Just shy of two hours."
The low restaurant lights cast a warm glow off the burnt orange walls. A candle flickers on the table. "I wish you could stay longer."
His hand covers mine. "So do I."
"Maybe I'll be voted off tomorrow night and I'll meet you in New York," I say. I don't want to get sent home, but I can't bear being away from Tom either. He caresses the back of my hand. If only we had more privacy, more time, and just... more.
"You and Dominic knocked it out of the park. You aren't going anywhere yet."
"Go figure. Just when I'm ready to get voted off, the judges finally decide they like me."
He grins, showing off his dimples. The warmth in his eyes makes me hope this is real. I think it is, but I've been wrong before.
Dominic appears with a beer. I snatch my hand away from Tom. "Aren't you the antisocial one," he teases, sliding in beside me.
My mouth drops open to comment, but then I realize he's just goading me, so I wrinkle my nose at him. "Just trying to escape and enjoy my margarita before you force me back into rehearsal."
"Good point." He helps himself to the chips and salsa.
"That dance tonight was genius," Tom says of Dominic's innovative choreography.
"Thanks. I think the judges are finally cutting us a break. They've been brutal all season."
"That's because they were never in favor of the America's chance to dance idea," I explain.
"I don't know about that," Tom says. Under the table his foot finds mine.
"So you were in town for a meeting. A new project?" Dominic asks.
I focus on the salsa dish.
"Yeah, and it looks promising." Tom smirks.
Dominic's phone rings. "Sorry, I gotta take this." He dips out of the booth.
Tom and I smile at each other. I could do this all night. Just look at him with his blond hair pushed to the side, the quirky way he smiles when he wants to say something, but holds back, and the twinkle in his eyes when I say something that makes him laugh.
"Are you ready to order?" the waitress appears out of nowhere.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't even looked at the menu." I pick it up and quickly scan the choices.
"I can come back," she offers.
"No, that's okay. I'll take the chicken fajitas with extra veggies, and skip the tortillas and sour cream," Tom says.
"Um, I'll have the chicken enchiladas," I say as it's the first item that catches my eye.
"Got it." She collects our menus and disappears.
"No sour cream? That's the best part." I dip another chip into the guacamole.
"Agreed."
"Are you on a diet?" Which must be impossible, because he's as lean and fit as the pro dancers on the show.
He drinks his gin and tonic. "I'd rather call it a life choice, but it's really more a necessity. I don't want to embarrass myself when I appear on stage with no shirt."
I lean in. "I'm intrigued. Tell me more."
He smiles. "First time during a fight scene, the other is a love scene."
Wow. Now I'm picturing him with another woman and not sure how I feel about it. I've got to see this show of his. "What exactly are you wearing during this love scene?"
"Boxers."
"Really?" I can't imagine him on a huge stage strutting around in his underwear. His face turns a rosy shade of pink. "Oh my God, Mister Broadway is shy."
He shakes his head and laughs, "It's my job. Nothing more."
"Uh huh. I bet you secretly love it."
"Trust me, my pasty white British body needs a lot of time in the gym to be passable on stage." He squirms in his seat.
"Look at how uncomfortable you are. I like this side of you."
"Are you talking about me again?" Hank appears with a tumbler of bourbon.
I blurt out a laugh. "No. Tom was just admitting to performing on stage in nothing more than a pair of boxers." Tom shakes his head, probably wishing he never said anything.
"I'm more of a briefs man myself. Either way that sounds a bit chilly." Hank scoots in next to me. "Back in the day, I had a body that women clamored for."
"Is that right?" I hold back my laughter. It's hard to imagine Hank's belly ever being anything but rotund.
"No, but I always wished I did." Hank slaps the table and laughs then breaks out in a smoker's cough. When he's recovered he says, "So, Tom, having a good time in L.A.?"
"Thanks. I am, but I fly out tonight."
Hank, aghast, looks from Tom, to me, and back again. "That's just horse hockey. How the hell are you going to woo the girl, if you're flying off all the time?"
Tom laughs, and it's my turn to hide my face in embarrassment.
"Aw, relax, Sweetheart. He looks like a bright enough fella to figure it out. But let me tell you. These long distance things almost never work out. Someone's going to have make a change." He stares my direction.
"Why are you looking at me?"
"Honey, he's the one with the prospects. You can't expect him to give up everything to chase after you when you're stuck dancing with a bunch of odd ducks like me."
I pat his hand. "Hank, you might be an odd duck, but out of the whole flock, you're my favorite."
"Yeah, yeah, joke all you want, but I've been around long enough to know how these things work. You need to get yourself off to New York, or he'll find some other cute little piece of tail and forget all about you."
Tom and I burst out laughing. "Aren't you glad you made the trip?" I say.
"This is much more entertaining than a night in New York."
"Hey, Tom. Did I ever tell you about the time I went to confession and accidentally picked up a call girl?" Hank asks.
The waitress delivers our food and as we eat, Hank regales us with one crazy story after another. Our laughter attracts Sonya and Dominic, and soon our private booth is surrounded by a handful of others enjoying the show, but ruining what should be my private time with Tom.
After a while, my side aching from all the laughter, Tom says, "I hate to break up the party, but I've got to get to the airport."
My heart drops.
"Ah darn it, and here I was jabbering away when all you wanted to do was corner the girl and count her freckles."
Pavel and Sonya laugh and say their goodbyes. Hank shuffles out of the booth and whispers in my ear.
"It's always good to keep 'em wanting more." He winks at me and shakes Tom's hand. "Best of luck to you, son. You better bring your A game with this one."
"Thanks, Sir, I'll do my best." Tom and I slide out of the booth.
"I'm sorry about the interruptions," I say. "I swear this never happens when you're not here. You are a people magnet."
"I think there was a conspiracy to keep us from being alone, but it was fun. Hank's a riot." He gestures toward the door. "Any chance I could convince you to ride along with me to the airport?"
And spend more time with him? "Of course."
I think he visibly relaxed at my response. His hand is at the small of my back as he guides me toward a black town car.
"I ordered it earlier," he explains opening the door for me.
"Pretty swanky." I slide in and he follows, telling the driver his airline. The driver pulls into traffic. I turn to Tom. "Thank you for coming."
But he isn't listening. He sweeps me into his arms. His lips crush mine and I lose myself to the touch of his kisses. He coaxes my lips apart and his tongue mingles with mine. I place my hand on his chest and soak in his scent. He is solid and real and he flew across the country just to see me.
"Oh, Chelsea. You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers in my ear, tickling my skin with his breath.
I'm at a loss. I want to beg him not to go, but that wouldn't be fair. He can't stay, and I can't follow. I press my cheek to his. "I hate that you have to go." The town car pulls into the kiss and fly lane at the airport. How appropriate.
He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. "I'm so glad I came."
"So am I. You have no idea."
"All I want is to be with you and get to know everything about you."
"I'll be in New York before you know it," I say more for my own benefit.
"I'm counting on that."
The interior lights come on. Tom pulls out his wallet. "Here's for my fare." He pulls out a few twenties. "This should be enough to drive my friend back to her apartment."
The driver nods his thanks.
Tom sighs and steps out of the car. I stand next to the open door, longing to follow him back to New York.
He lowers his forehead to mine. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He smiles, kisses me quick on the forehead, and turns to enter the terminal. I duck back into the car, so my last memory isn't of him disappearing from sight. That would be too much to bear.
As the car pulls into traffic, I struggle between the grin that covers my face and the ache in my heart.